Still Afraid of Storms
by Loki Mischeif-Maker
Summary: Regulus Black needed his brother to tell him it was okay to be scared. 'I'm still afraid of storms, Sirius,' he thought. . . . But this time, Sirius wasn't there.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the settings or characters pertaining to _Harry Potter— _I only like to play puppet-master from time to time.

**Author's Note:** Sat down to write the prequel to Last of the Line (which I have only been planning for forever), and this comes out instead. Ah, well, I'll write it sometime. Cheers! — Loki

* * *

It was storming again— the rain beat ferociously against the window pains, and the wind and thunder howled outside like some ferocious monster had come to wreak vengeance for an unknown slight. Lightning flashed, illuminating the street as the wind carried a soaked cardboard box down it. The box danced, flew forward and back as if trying to escape, but the wind always caught it and pushed it onward.

Regulus Black watched the cardboard make its journey down the street from an upstairs window. Most of the people he knew insisted that there was beauty in spite— or because of, depending on the person— the fury in a thunderhead, but as usual he couldn't seem to find it as the cardboard box was finally torn in half by the combination of rain and wind.

He turned away from the window and glanced down the hall, doing a slight double take at the door to his brother's room. It was open— it hadn't been open for nearly two years, since Sirius had apparently walked out on his family. Since then all traces of him had vanished from the house, except Phineas's occasional muttering that there was no one left in the house to argue with.

Silently as a cat, Regulus went over to the door and opened it entirely. "Sirius?"

He smiled at his own foolishness. Sirius hadn't come back; he'd meant it when he said he was gone for good. The room was far too neat for Sirius to inhabit it, everything in its place. Sirius hadn't been neat— he was like a young demon, and always distracted by something more interesting than cleaning.

The thunder sounded outside again, like a dragon's roar, and Regulus flinched. He wished Sirius _was_ there. _I'm still afraid of storms, Sirius,_ he thought, the wry smile disappearing. He wandered farther into the room, still feeling like an intruder, despite Sirius's absence and the fact that this was clearly not his room anymore. He glanced out the window, sitting on the bed, wishing he was a little kid again, the one that could show up at his irritated big brother's room when the storm was too furious outside.

In the past, it had always been Sirius who he'd gone to when the thunder roared— his parents weren't precisely been the people to talk to when he was afraid. After Sirius had first left for Hogwarts, he'd lost someone to talk to about that. The first storm without him, though, he'd still found himself in his brother's room. Sirius had always let him in before, no matter if the thunder was genuine or something other than the real thing, even in the middle of the night. . . .

* * *

"Sirius?"

The ten-year-old groaned and looked up from his bed, at the silhouette of his seven-year-old brother against the doorway of the room. "I'm up," he answered groggily.

The thunder howled, and Sirius glanced over at the rain beating against the window pain and back to Regulus, who was still looking sheepishly at him through the doorway. "It's only a storm," he reminded his brother, starting to lie back down, "go back to sleep."

The thunder roared again, and Regulus yelped in surprise. Sirius sighed. "Come on in, then," he offered. "Can't believe your so afraid of a little rain."

"It's not just rain," Regulus grumbled, jumping up into the bed with his brother. He stayed on the side nearest the door, away from the window, as settled down, letting Sirius do the same. "There's lightning, too— you heard what Dad's said about lightning."

"Not in the house, it won't," Sirius mumbled into the pillow. "Now go to sleep."

The lightning flashed again, and even before the thunder added sound to the sight Regulus was closer to his brother. Sirius cursed under his breath but ruffled Regulus's hair. "You're going to have to learn to get over storms sometime," he pointed out softly. "What're you going to do next year when I'm not here?"

"You've got to be here," Regulus muttered. "I dunno what I'd do without you around to tell me it's okay."

"It's just a storm— it's always gonna be okay," Sirius told him, slightly irritated. "Nothing but rain and wind and a little lightning. Now, let me sleep."

"But—"

"Reg, _go to sleep._ If there's a dragon out there instead of thunder, it can't even see the house with all the spells Dad's got around it. If it's just the noise, I'm here, but I'm going to send you back to your own room in a minute if you don't shut up and go to sleep."

"Okay," Regulus answered timidly, closing his eyes.

"Thank Merlin," Sirius muttered, settling back down with his arm around his brother, oblivious to the storm throwing its tantrum outside.

It was an hour or so later, when he probably thought Regulus was asleep that he spoke again. He was almost right— warm against his brother and under the covers, with Sirius firmly between him and the outside, Regulus was somewhere between being awake and asleep, and might have thought he dreamed it if he hadn't remembered it so clearly. "I'm not always gonna be there to crawl into bed with," Sirius muttered, "but I'll help you weather any storm you come across. Now, if you're not already, go to sleep or at least don't wake me up again."

* * *

Regulus woke up with a start, glancing outside. It was predawn, but silent behind the rain-streaked window. The storm had blown itself out during the night— he must've fallen asleep on Sirius's bed. Now, he wandered over to it, looking out at the world before it was awake. Part of the cardboard box lay in the yard, looking rather forlorn without the rest of it— rather how Regulus felt without Sirius to argue with constantly, or go to when he needed to be told it was okay to be afraid.

He leaned against the window. "I still need you for it, Sirius," he mumbled. "I'm scared and I dunno what to do without you. . . ."

He didn't get an answer; he didn't have the time for an owl. He stood up again, examining his fingerprints on the glass. "I don't have the nerve," he muttered finally, still as if he was speaking to his older brother. "I'm not like you, Sirius; there's no way I can walk out on my family."

He just hoped he wasn't making a terrible mistake.


End file.
